


Secret Keeper

by ERNest



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Isolation, Loneliness, Magnus is having a hard time all through this, Memory Related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16090322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: Griffin:After the events of the last episode, you are having kind of a rough time. Because there are things that you saw on that scroll and there are things that you know, but there are things that you can't think, and there are things that you can't understand, and that divide is just like, it's just killing you, man.Here’s a secret: Magnus is half convinced that he’s the only one who’s dropped the ball on maintaining his relationships with the people around him.





	Secret Keeper

They all keep secrets from each other and that’s – that’s fine. Sure, they’ve been through life and death situations before, but at the end of the day they’re still just coworkers, not bosom buddies. Each one needs a space where not every aspect of their lives intersects with the others. So Merle doesn’t talk about the children he visits or the wife he doesn’t. Taako doesn’t talk about his hot dates with Death or the town he killed. Magnus doesn’t talk about the town he protected until he wasn’t there to do his job or the scrolls he can’t decipher.

 Maybe the best kept secret is how each of them thinks the other two don’t _know_. Magnus used to resent it, not enough to cause friction, but there it was. Or maybe he was just sad that his buddies didn’t seem to trust him. It wasn’t an ego thing; he just hoped they had someone to talk to about the heaviness of their hearts.

Now he’s got a new secret, not a chapter of his life he’d rather keep closed, but something he desperately wants to unfold to any other soul yet cannot speak. He can hardly fault people for segmenting themselves when this simple drawing of him in red is tearing him apart like this. It would be isolating for anybody even if it didn’t implicate him as maybe one of the bad guys.

 Magnus _is_  grateful for the times they get to be honest with each other, but there’s only so much comfort he can take in his friends’ company when he can’t share everything he needs to. He finds himself wandering further astray each night, to what end he doesn’t know, but he is stifled by these rooms.

 His anxious footfalls lead him to the Inoculation Chamber where so many lives have been forgotten and recalled. If he can’t speak, the Voidfish can still sing. He’s been invited into the surprisingly comfortable water, so for the first time there is no glass between their appendages. The tentacles are unlike anything he’s ever felt, but some sense memory tells him this is an intensely familiar experience. Somehow this friendship is not new so without any fear he takes a huge gulp of air and lowers himself all the way into the tank.

There are no secrets in telepathy – if that’s even the right word for this one-way transfer of memories – and it’s a palpable relief, no matter how weird the rest of this situation is getting. The Voidfish cannot understand all his questions, and he cannot understand all its answers, but even simplified down to pictograms he can feel the truth of it.

 

 Magnus still doesn’t know if he can trust the Director; there was no way to frame that question that the Voidfish could even begin to answer. It’s probably more of a judgment call than anything another person can quantify for him, but his inability to just skip to the solution is frustrating anyway. He _wants_  to trust her; they’ve grown close enough that she no longer flinches when he uses her name, and he lives for the moments he can make a woman of such gravitas smile even a little. But on a professional level he feels merely necessary. Yes, it’s an almost unheard of feat to resist the thrall of the Grand Relics, and he’s quietly proud of himself for that, but it also means she only took Très Horny Boys because they were the best she could get.

 And he still doesn’t know for _sure_  her purpose in retrieving these insanely powerful artifacts. Like the planar system modeled in Lucas Miller’s lab, or the cycles of circles shown him by the Voidfish, there are wheels within wheels and something _bigger than this_. He hates feeling like a cog in the machine and hates the fear that he’s actually making the world a little worse each time he tries to save it, and most of all he hates the sleepless nights.

 So whatever qualms he has about the Director, he finds himself absurdly grateful when she kicks their training up another notch or five. He throws himself into the challenge wholeheartedly and relishes the sweat and the ache of all his muscles. It’s been too long since he got to be about action before thought, and maybe that’s character development, maybe being more thoughtful has kept him alive, but his muscle memory helps him slide into that space of “Magnus Rushes In” and it’s almost like coming home.

 Now if they talk less at the end of the day it’s because they’re out of time and energy for small talk, and not because they’re hiding things from each other. He comes home happily exhausted each day and most nights he doesn’t even dream. He does worry sometimes about whatever’s coming up – it must be pretty big if Lucretia’s worried enough to put so much pressure on them – but he’ll just have to take it as it comes. Anyway, there’s no big picture to worry about when he gets caught up in the rhythm of protect-dodge-attack, and if he laughs at inappropriate moments, it’s just from the joy of living.

 

 The three Reclaimers drift out of contact with everyone but each other and the Director, pretty much. It’s not like anyone’s actively avoiding anybody else, but their schedules are out of sync and they can’t seem to get back on track no matter how hard they all try. Oh, they’ll pass each other in the mess hall, but it’s just hard to hang out beyond that. For example he’s – oh, oh _no_! The poker night Avi invited them all to was _last_  night, not tomorrow like he was thinking. It’s little lapses like that. Has it been weeks now or months since he has a conversation with Avi that consisted of more than general niceties?

 Here’s a secret: Magnus is half convinced that he’s the only one who’s dropped the ball on maintaining his relationships with the people around him. It’s _lonely_  to have all this stuff going on in his head that he can’t share with anyone, and even with the welcome distraction of training all the time, it’s hard to find the right words for even the most standard social scripts, so after a while he just stops trying. He keeps having nightmares that when he says “How was your day?” halfway through his voice will turn into that eerie rasping voice that asked “ _Are you afraid?_ ” He is now.

Carey checks in on him now and then, using thieves cant to ask if he’s okay, and he usually answers in the affirmative. It’s easier to use his hands and body than trying to force words up from his throat, and he gets closer to telling the truth, even with the thoughts he must keep hidden. Still, it’s been ages since they’ve painted each other’s nails, and his gestures do not telegraph his intent the way they should.

 

 He hasn’t gone back to visit the Voidfish since that night, and he knows his buddy deserves better than to be ignored like that. Truth be told, Magnus is afraid. There was a moment back there, just for an instant after it slammed into glass that he realized just how alien this creature really was. The fear is infused with awe and respect, but he does not know what he will do when he comes face-to-bell with it again.

And he’s ashamed, too. Now that he knows it exists, he can’t rest until he’s found the egg or whatever’s emerged from it and returned it to its parent, but he doesn’t have a clue where to start. Would it just be a smaller version of the Voidfish he’s come to know and love, or is there some larval form he can’t even imagine? How is he supposed to protect the people he needs to, if he can’t identify potential threats? He didn’t exactly promise to take care of this, but being shown something so monumental felt like one, and if he can’t keep his promises he’s _useless_.

He avoids the Voidfish’s dome so thoroughly that he now only catches glimpses of Johann from afar. The bard’s stoop is more pronounced and Magnus tries not to think that it’s because of him; tries not to think that on top of his worries about a legacy he also misses their friendship. C’mon, he knows he’s not that important to anyone! Besides, what is he supposed to say: “Sorry I haven’t been hanging out, I just took a swim with your fish last month and was imparted world-changing information I’m still not sure what to do with, and it’s freaking me the fuck out. By the way, want to go out for drinks later?” Yeah, that’ll go over great. Better to bypass any chance of that conversation ever happening. He ducks his head down and picks up his pace so Johann won’t notice him.

 

 Magnus can think of only two ways for this unsustainable, untenable state of disconnect to break open and transform into something he can live with.

Soon the object of the mission for which they have been training will finally reveal itself and they can set out to recover it. In the wake of their inevitable success their schedules will settle to the point that he can actually honor engagements when he makes them.

Failing that, the solstice festival will force him and all his friends into the same place with no work to distract him, and he will reinforce the links that have weakened among them.

There may well be other solutions but he cannot imagine what they could be, and as he has no control over the endings he _can_  predict, so there’s nothing for it but to let it be.


End file.
